In Celebration
by dlhs8954
Summary: NWZ Just a little story to celebrate Duncan Regehr's 60th birthday on Oct. 5.


A/N: I just had to do this. I posted a forum, but I know that they're not looked at that often. A short little 60th birthday tribute…Wanted to finish this before midnight Eastern time…almost made it.

IN CELEBRATION

As the sun rose the morning of October 5th, Diego yawned and stretched. He glanced over at Victoria, her black hair streaked with white. _I can hardly believe it_, he thought. _I can hardly believe I made it to sixty. I remember wondering if I'd ever make it to forty!_

Victoria stirred next to him. She woke up with her husband of twenty-five years staring back at her. She smiled.

"Happy Birthday, Diego. It's such a special day! I'm glad the family will be here to help celebrate."

"Si, the whole family. I am so blessed to have you, mi amor. I love you as much today as always, maybe even more." He pulled her to him and gave her a kiss. They nestled in each other's arms a few minutes longer.

Z

After breakfast, Diego walked out into the garden and strolled around. So many memories…

"_Diego, be careful. Roses have thorns," Dona Elena warned. Diego was little Enrique's age when his mother told him that._

_Another memory crossed his brain…one of a young deaf boy during the August Revolution... I am so proud of Felipe, Diego thought. He is a fine haciendado in his own right after a fine career as both a lawyer and judge. I can't wait to see him later today…_

"_Felipe, you heard that!" Diego remembered the ashamed expression Felipe had worn when he whirled around at the sound of the fox's whimper in the cave._

"_So good to be home…" Diego remembered when he saw the hacienda for the first time after returning from Spain. _

"_Diego," his father said. "You remember Victoria Escalante." Did he ever! Ah Father, he thought. I miss your wisdom. I miss your strength. Don Alejandro had died at eighty; just after little Enrique was born, his youngest great-grandchild at the time. If he had lived, he'd be eighty-five. (Henry Darrow is still alive and kicking at age 78)._

"…_you should have a husband, someone like Diego perhaps…" I can't believe I spoke of myself in the third person for four years, he thought. I can't believe I lived two lives; only each one was half a life._

He walked to the wall where he'd left the mask…after Victoria and he kissed for the first time.

So many memories... Diego let his mind go…Alcalde Luis Ramone…Sergeant Jaime Mendoza, who wasn't a sergeant anymore, but owned and operated Mendoza's Inn. He had taken it over from Victoria, when she was pregnant with Raul…Alcalde Ignacio De Soto…Diego snickered at the thought of his bombastic approach, but shook his head as a serious thought crossed his mind. _I wouldn't be here if it weren't for him_… For a moment, Diego felt regret. _Gilberto should be sixty today, too_, _but he's not_. He had never quite gotten used to the idea that Gilberto was his fraternal twin brother.

His mind drifted to other women he'd known…Magdalena from Spain, Magdalena of Los Angeles, who helped him in spite of her husband…the Senora…what was her name? The one with the twisted sense of love who nearly killed Victoria, and who did kill her husband…and seeing Zafira again after several years – that's right, Correna was dead now. He didn't know where Zafira was…probably Mexico City…She had never come back to Los Angeles.

His mind drifted again…the birth of Raul, the birth of his other sons and daughters.

"Diego! It's time for breakfast!" He turned to see his beloved Victoria walking towards him.

Z

"Grandfather! Grandfather! Here I am!" Five-year-old Enrique Quentin Diego de la Vega ran into his grandfather's arms.

"Tell me the Zorro stories again, Grandfather! Please! Please! Please!"

Silver-haired at sixty, lines in his forehead and smile lines, but otherwise mostly unchanged, Diego de la Vega smiled as he picked up Enrique and sat with him in the de la Vega Library on the sofa. His knees creaked a bit and his shoulders popped. He was still in good condition. He hadn't become a 'fat' haciendado when he had given up Zorro, but his muscle tone had diminished a bit in his fifties. His muscles were still there, just not as taut as they had been. Diego kept in shape by working as hard as any of his vaqueros, sometimes more so. He just didn't move quite as fast as he had, but was still quite graceful when he walked.

Diego smiled and looked down at his grandson's face. "Which one do you want me to tell? There are so many. I'm not sure I remember them all. But remember, Enrique, remember the secret diary I told you about in the cave. When you're older, it's yours."

"I won't forget. Gracias, Grandfather. Tell me the one about…the time you and Great-grandfather made that Emissary think he was an Indian, and made the Alcalde think he was shrinking!"

Diego chuckled and launched into his story.

Z

"Really, Father, you shouldn't let Enrique wrap you around his little finger like that!" Diego's oldest son by Victoria, Raul shook his head and rolled his eyes at his father. Raul got the best of both his parents…tall, dark, and handsome, but with brown eyes and deep raven hair.

"What else are grandchildren for, but to spoil and to fuss over?"

"Happy Birthday, Father!" Raul hugged his father around his neck for a moment.

"Thank you Raul. There were times when I didn't think I'd make even forty, let alone sixty. I'm just so amazed."

Z

Just after lunch, Felipe and his family arrived from Santa Barbara. "Father, happy, happy birthday! It's so good to see you!"

Diego rose from the dinner table and hugged Felipe. "Gracias, Felipe. It's been a wonderful day! I am so blessed."

"Well, I'll warn you, my daughter Constanza wants to hear Zorro stories."

"She's not alone. I've already told Enrique a story or two."

All the rest of the children present chimed in. "Tell us, Grandfather! Tell us a Zorro story…"

"What story do you want to hear?"

"Tell us about Great-Grandfather Alejandro – and the time he thought _he_ was Zorro!"

Victoria smiled. "I thought there was something a little different about him, but I wondered where he got Zorro's clothes from, and how he got Tornado to let him ride him into the pueblo! Let's move into the Library, shall we?"

Z

"Grandmother, when did you know that Grandfather was Zorro?" Felipe's daughter Constanza asked. Victoria thought a moment.

"I think, in some ways, I knew it from the first moment I got over my fear of his appearance. When I saw him in action, I fell in love with him immediately. But you forget. Your grandfather was very good at hiding himself and keeping the secret of Zorro from those closest to him."

"Except from you, Father," Constanza looked proudly at Felipe.

"Si, Constanza." Diego interjected. "It was your father who gave me the idea of calling myself El Zorro."

Z

Several stories later, it was siesta, and the children went to bed, but the 'men' of the family stayed in the Library.

"How are your paintings selling, Father?" Raul asked. "And I heard you were writing stories?"

Diego chuckled nervously. "Well, uh, the artwork is selling modestly. I always have had a bit of a mystical outlook on life and it reflects in my artwork and in my stories. I'm trying something a bit different now. I'm connecting them."

"What do you mean, Father?" Felipe asked.

"I write the story, then I paint the story."

"Huh?"

"Well…if you read the story, you can see bits of it in the artwork. Sort of…ties it all together."

"Really? That is a bit different."

"It's not illustration, it's…I don't know. I just do it."

"Well, didn't El Conejo call you a Renaissance man because you're able to do so many different things?" Felipe asked.

Diego chuckled again, and his head shot up at the memory. "And didn't you get caught in his trap?"

It was Felipe's turn to chuckle.

Z

At the end of the day, after cake, flan, and ice cream were consumed, the children and grandchildren were all in their beds; Diego de la Vega took out his current journal and wrote the events and thoughts of the day.

_I can hardly believe it. I turned sixty today…I wondered if I would ever see forty…but I did. Even if I died tomorrow, I could say I've had a very rich and wonderful life_…_What shall I write and paint tomorrow?_

THE END


End file.
